


As Stable As Francium

by ShinSolo



Category: Underøath (Band)
Genre: BDSM, M/M, Rape Fantasy, non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-06
Updated: 2013-07-06
Packaged: 2017-12-17 21:10:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/871994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShinSolo/pseuds/ShinSolo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Generally his mood progresses from best friend to master, but tonight he seemed unable to make up his mind.  He was cold one minute, warm the next, and about as stable as francium.</p>
            </blockquote>





	As Stable As Francium

I never intended on those things to happen, yet they always did; and every time I found myself swearing that it would be the last.  
  
It was never his eyes that enticed me; although the guys claimed they could predict the outcome of any evening get--together by simply watching the look in his eyes.  And it was not the way his hip swayed as he made his way across; even though such moments had a tendency to make my blood run cold.  It was not even the pattern his lips left against the glass or the way the wine stained his lips as he drank deeply out of the bottle.  
  
The one thing about Spencer that never failed to get to me, was something so simple that none of our other band members ever even noticed.  Something so simple that Spencer himself took it for granted, unaware of its affect one me.  It was the scent of his hair, a strange mixture of sweat and that unique smell which belonged only to Spencer, and the way it fell like water around his perfect face as it slipped through his fingers.  The deal was never sealed until he ran his fingers through his hair, tossing it every which way as he shook it from his face.  
  
His first kiss was always chaste, a secret moment that we shared only when all other heads were turned; but his later advances were anything but chaste.  They were designed for one thing, and one thing only: to turn me on as quickly as he could.  
  
Shamelessly, he nibbled on my earlobes and sucked on the sensitive skin at my throat, his breath against my skin causing me to either bite my lip or moan out loud.  His hands roamed over my stomach before finally coming to rest on the crotch of my jeans.  The palm of his hand pressed down unmercifully on my already half erected cock.  
  
I could feel the eyes of the other guys as they watched us, and as Spencer pulled my t-shirt over my head I could picture them touching themselves through the coarse fabric of their jeans as they waited for the show to enfold in front of them.  
  
It was the same way every time we got together, and by now they knew all of the rules.  They could watch, but never touch.  And when the pants came off, they had to leave.  If they lingered past that point, they would fall victim to Spencer's most bizarre sexual fantasies.  Fantasies that only a fool would willingly subject themselves to.  Fantasies that, as his favorite toy, I was all too familiar with.  
  
This night was no exception.  The moment Spencer's hands reached for my belt, Grant stood up and announced that it was past his bedtime.  Chris mentioned something about a press conference we had scheduled early in the morning and warned us not to stay up too late or to keep anyone awake by being excessively loud.  The others followed suit and in a matter of seconds, Spencer and I found ourselves all alone in the Dudley's living room, the television muted, the sofa bed folded out.  
  
Spencer pulled my belt from my pants and carefully set it aside.  He then wasted no time in removing my pants and boxers, leaving me completely exposed and vulnerable in front of him.  
  
A rough sound emitted from his throat, a combination of a laugh and a growl, as he smiled down at me.  He cupped my balls in his hand and rubbed himself against my leg.  I could plainly feel his erection through his jeans and while I longed to free him of their constricting nature, the uncertainty of what he had planned for the night restrained me.  
  
I did not dare ask him what he was thinking or attempt to speak.  Experience had taught me that to do so would only make matters worse for myself.  He would reveal his thoughts to me when he was ready; although he rarely did so through words.  With Spencer, actions always spoke louder.  
  
Another soft noise came from him, only this time it was more of a moan.  He pressed himself harder against me, his eyes closing, his head falling back as if he were already on the brink of orgasm.  My name left his lips in a heated whisper as he fell back against the cushions of the couch, pushing me away from him with one hand as he whacked off with the other.  
  
I watched him in awe as he worked himself, his jeans merely unzipped but not pulled down.  He came in about a minute, his cum spilling over his closed fist.  
  
For a moment he did not move, his eyes closed, breathing even, and for a split second I mistook him for asleep.  
  
"Spee?"  I was not sure he had heard me.  
  
"Yes, Pig?"  he said as he opened his eyes, his voice monotonous.  "Did you say something?"  
  
I swallowed, unsure of how to respond.  If he had asked the question out of spite then speaking out of turn again could be next to deadly, yet if the question had been meant as a command, remaining silent could have equally harsh consequences.  I locked my eyes with his, searching for any sign that might reveal his nature, but before I could respond, he laughed.  
  
"You really are something tonight, aren't you?"  He asked and shook his head at me.  "But that's okay, I'm not really myself tonight, either."  
  
Normally, the casual tone those words had would have been enough to set me at ease, but not tonight.  In fact, if anything, the tone of his voice made my stomach churn even more.  Generally his mood progresses from best friend to master, but tonight he seemed unable to make up his mind.  He was cold one minute, warm the next, and about as stable as francium.  
  
He brought his fingers up to my lips and smeared his seed over them for me to taste.  I opened my mouth to his fingers out of habit, sucking them into my mouth one at a time until each of his fingers were once again clean.  
  
"Very good," he whispered as he pulled me on top of him on the sofa bed, his hair spread across the blanket beneath him.  
  
I could not resist kissing him.  But the moment my lips touched his, I regretted it.  
  
His hand came down hard against my cheek, sending a wave of pain through my entire body and momentarily blurring my vision.  I bit into my lip to fight the wave of tears I could feel welling up in my eyes.  Tears not caused from the pain, but from the shame of knowing that I had disobeyed him, shame that I had made a move without his direction.  
  
"You do know you will be punished for that, right?"  He asked, his dominance over the situation clearly visible.  
  
He pushed me off of him and I could hear him as he undressed, but I did not dare look at him.  Instead I fixed my eyes on the machine woven pattern of the blanket, afraid that looking at him might offend him even more.  
  
"I don't understand why you have to be such a whore, Aaron."--He let his shirt drop to the floor before he laid his own belt next to mine on the couch.--"All you had to do was be a good boy and everything would have gone quite nice.  We could have had sex the way everyone else does it, well, almost the same way everyone else does, and we wouldn't have had to deal with this whole ‘Master and Servant' game for tonight.  All I wanted was to be fucked by you, but you _had_ to go and ruin a seemingly perfect moment.  You think being master is easy?  I loathe every minute of it, but if I don't do it, you'll be no better than the rest of them.  Fussing over their girlfriends and wives as if they were goddesses, bending to their every wish.  They have no backbone, Aaron.  They run at the slightest bit of trouble."  
  
He tangled his fingers in the back of my hair and then turned my head so I had no choice but to look at him.  It never failed to amaze me how loving, and almost innocent, he could appear at these moments.  He truly believed ever word he spoke.  To him, this way of life was his job.  It was something he had to do for me.  It was something he was certain I would one day thank him for doing.  
  
"But you're not like them, Aaron.  You have spirit.  You have brains."--He leaned towards me, his lips nearly pressed against my ear.--"That's why I have to punish you.  That's why I have to teach you to be fearless, to obey my every wish no matter how hard it might be for you to force yourself to obey me."  
  
His words made me shudder.  Numerous times I had found myself in tears over one of his commands, but I had yet to face something that I just absolutely could not bring myself to do.  I knew that whatever he had in mind for my punishment would be the hardest thing he had ever requested of me; however, if I failed . . . I could not even bring myself to think of failure.  It was not an option.  To fail could result in Spencer withdrawing from me completely.  It could result in him de--collaring me and moving on to someone else who was not afraid to do what he commanded.  
  
Once again, he laid down on the bed and pulled me on top of him, only this time he was just as naked as I was.  He wrapped his arms around me and leaned his head against my forehead, his eyes locked with mine.  I dreaded what he was about to say, yet nothing prepared me for what he finally did.  
  
"Rape me."  
  
All sense of submissiveness left me and I instantly opened my mouth to protest, but before I could say anything, his hand once again struck the side of my face.  
  
"You _will_ rape me, and I _will_ struggle."--His eyes were cold and frightening.--"You will ignore my pleas for help.  You will not stop no matter what I say.  You will rape me as if you do not even know me, not stopping or slowing no matter how loud I scream for help or how deep I wince in pain."  
  
Tears once again filled my eyes.  Anything but this.  I did not know where I was going to be able to find the power to hurt him in such a way.  This truly was the worse thing anyone could ever do to someone aside from killing them.  
  
"Spencer!  Are you out of your fucking mi . . ."  
  
He hit me again before I could finish my sentence and this time it was not just a mere slap to the face.  He had punched me as hard as he could.  His fist collided with the side of my face with such force that, for a moment, everything went white and I knew that there was no other way out of this situation.  The only thing I could do was what he wanted.  Only afterwards would I be able to demand an explanation from him, if any were to be given.  Only afterwards would I be able to cry in his arms and beg him to forgive me for committing such an act.  It did not matter that he was the one forcing me to rape him, it would still be a sin against him and against God, and in the end, I would be the one responsible.  
  
He brought his fist up again to hit me, but I caught it before he could land another punch.  My own strength in the situation caught me off guard, but then again, I had never used my full strength against Spencer before now.  I had never had a need to use it.  
  
He struggled violently beneath me, his face appearing afraid, yet at the same time, daring me to use the same force against him that he had used on me every night we had been together over the past few years.  
  
I forced myself to force his hands above his head, and I then realized why he had taken such care in laying the belts out next to us.  He wanted me to use them to bind him.  
  
Fear flooded my system, but I did not have time to think.  I reached for my belt with my free hand and wrapped the leather around his wrists, binding them together before securing it to the closet thing I could find: the wire framing of the pull out bed.  This bent his arms at an almost painful angle behind his head and also prevented him from sliding his hands free, even if my makeshift handcuffs had been poorly constructed.  
  
He brought his knee up to my crotch but I managed to maneuver away from his intended blow.  My hands hesitating for a split moment before I spread his legs beneath me.  
  
His dick, once hard and ready, hung limp between his legs, and I wrapped my fingers around it in an attempt to pump it back to life.  It served as another reminder that what I was doing was not right.  
  
I spit into my hand and brought it to my own cock, which was painfully hard in contrast to his.  When I did so, he seemed to grow even more afraid.  He screamed a heart wenching scream and struggled even harder against me.  I knew that if I was going to complete this task successfully, I would have to silence him.  If I did not, it would be only a matter of minutes before the other guys were knocking the living room door down, demanding to know what the Hell was going on in here.  
  
Not knowing what else to do, I grabbed his own belt and wound it around his mouth as a gag.  It muffled his screams but did not silence them all together.  They could still be heard by the other people in the house.  My only hope was that they would be dismissed as his typical screams and moans, and that I would not find myself having to explain this awful situation to anyone.  
  
I once again spit into the palm of my hand and coated my dick with the lubricating saliva Although he had instructed me to rape him, he had not told me that I had to hurt him as much as possible.  This small comfort was all I could do to for him, and Heaven forbid if he punished me for it later.  
  
He managed to free his left hand as I pushed into him, and instead of using it to work his other hand free, he proceeded to hit me in the side and back of the head as hard as he could.  A couple of his blows, on their own, nearly knocked the wind out of me, but I tried my best to ignore them.  
  
I could not hit him back.  I would not hit him back.  That would be taking things too far.  I could rape him, I could tear him, I could bind him, and I could gag him, but I could not hit him.  To do so would consume the very last thread of sanity I still clung to, but as his punches grew harder and more frequent, I was left with no other choice.  
  
Before I even realized what I was doing, I had drawn my fist back as hard as I could and landed one square in his jaw.  His head fell back against the pillow and blood poured from the place where his bottom teeth had bitten through his lip.  
  
Tears began to pour freely down my cheeks and as I thrust over and over into his now seemingly lifeless body I could not help but sob.  
  
It was at that moment, through that haze of salt water tears, that I realized that his free hand was tangled in my hair.  And that instead of screaming in protest, he was moaning in pleasure.  His hips were rising and falling to meet my thrusts.  
  
Greatly confused, and unsure of what else to do, I risked everything and pushed the gag from his mouth.  My tongue lapped at the blood where his teeth has pierced through the skin, and then parted his lips.  To my amazement and wonder, he kissed me back, more passionately than ever before.  
  
By that time, my breathing was irregular and my heart was racing faster.  It would only be a matter of time before I would reach orgasm.  
  
I reached down between us and once again wrapped my fingers around his now erect cock, stroking him in time with my thrusts.  He gasped against my lips before breaking the kiss and laying his head on my shoulder instead.  
  
"Oh fuck, Spencer.  I love you!"  I could not stop myself from calling out when I finally came inside of him.  His body went rigid as his own orgasm followed shortly after.  
  
For a while, neither of us spoke.  His right hand remained bound above his head.  My fingers twisted through his long locks, occasionally bringing them to my lips to breathe in his potent scent.  
  
"I love you, too," he finally whispered, his voice slightly hoarse from his screaming.  
  
At first I did not know if I had heard him correctly.  Never before had he ever told me he loved me.  Of course, I had allowed the words to slip pass my lips on numerous occasions, but he had never once even appeared phased by them.  It was as if love was an emotion he was not capable of feeling.  
  
"I love you."  He said again, slightly louder than the first time.  This time there was no denying what I had heard.  
  
Once again I found myself in tears and at his mercy.  I wrapped my arms around him even tighter than before and buried my face in the crook of his neck, my kisses falling at random over his pale skin.  
  
He freed himself from the belt with one quick tug against it, and placed his hands on either side of my face.  His lips pressed softly against mine.  His tongue slowly explored the inside of my mouth.  
  
Only the, now faint, taste of blood in his mouth reminded me of what I had just done.  Did his sudden change of demeanor mean that I had passed?  Was his love my reward for a job well done?  
  
I could not wait any longer for an answer and I slowly withdrew from his kiss.  
  
"Spee?  Did I make you happy?"  I asked, my hands trembling slightly in fear that he would answer in a negative manner.  
  
He smiled at me, his eyes sparkling in the dim light of the living room.  
  
"Yes, you silly pig."--He laughed and once again pressed his lips to mine.--"You passed."

**Author's Note:**

> Written 10/19/2006.


End file.
